


Black

by kye_16



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aquinea's probably scarier, Dorian Pavus is Stronger Than You, Gen, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kye_16/pseuds/kye_16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian attends a get-together with other like-minded and sympathetic men. How could he have known his parents were paying attention?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black

**Author's Note:**

> Recently picked up writing again, trying to write an end I'm satisfied with for the fic I almost abandoned. Found this little bit in the way a few nights ago, apparently it wanted out.

                The world was all black for a while.

                The waves lapping at the sand were black. The thick smoke whirling up, burning his eyes and suffocating his lungs, had been black. The robes of the men who'd dragged his body home had been black, too. Dragged him home empty, devoid of hope and promise, and just a little bit defiant. Thick tears mixed with soot gummed up Dorian's black lashes, and as the mix smeared black across his cheek, he decided he might be a little more positive on the colour.

                Aquinea swept into the foyer, face hard and body rigid. Dorian did not bother looking up from where he'd been unceremoniously dumped on the marble floor, black dirt smudged against its immaculate surface, but he noticed his captors flinch all the same. She did not even need to speak a word. She waved a hand in dismissal as Halward strode in, and the Maker-forsaken, nug-humping hounds that had retrieved him bowed and shuffled out.

                In the stifling silence, Dorian had two choices. He curled his fingers against the marble, streaking black fingerprints over the no longer immaculate surface, and decided to stand.

                "Of all the stunts you have pulled, Dorian -- for the shame you have already brought on this house -- do you want for our attentions so badly?"

                "Were it _your_ attentions I wanted, I'd hardly have gone all the way to the shore." For all his twenty-four years, standing his ground in front of his mother is the best he can manage. Looking her in the eye is out of the question. His arms crossed in front of his chest in an attempt at defiance, though he suspects it comes off more as a childish attempt to shield himself from her piercing glare.

                For his part, Halward could only scoff and shake his head in disgust as Aquinea's face twisted.

                "And yet you did, didn't you?" she snarled. "Carousing with Laevinius' sons out in the open for anyone to see, just waiting for someone to make it news! Just trying to find another knife to stab us with, like the petulant child you are." The chill in her tone would have frozen his younger self, but it was so dated he almost laughed in relief. _No, mother. You'll need better than that to cut this hide._

                "For someone wanting my unseemly behaviour to go unnoticed, you may wish to reconsider the subtlety of having an estate burnt to the ground."

                "Don't you take that tone with your mother, you little shit." Halward's voice was tired, almost bored but for the sharp edge at the end.

                "Prefer I should take it with you, then?"

                "If you could rein in this hedonistic disregard of yours for two minutes, please? You are so dramatic all the time, Dorian, and there is no need of it. It was barely a cottage, and we both know the rest of the family is meant to be south in Perivantium on business. There was no one around to get hurt."

                "No one -- ! Father, half a retinue of slaves was still on the premises! That's three dozen people, half of which are dead now because of you!" The other half of which were still alive because of Dorian, but he wasn't about to say so.

                Halward paused in waving away Dorian's arguments, but it was Aquinea who spoke up. "You blame _us?_ You go gallivanting about with boys who are barely better than Laetan, _out in the open_ , for all the world to witness your depravity! What are we to do about these things, Dorian? If you will not heed us, then we must be sure others will."

                "Are you _mad??_ "

                "How many of you were there, Dorian? Were you all naked and dancing under the moon like the drunken sluts you are, pouring spirits out to demons and smoking your _faen_?"

                "Merciful Maker, mother! There were only ten of us, maybe, and we were all clothed, thank you very much!" Well, mostly clothed. "And even if we weren't, has it occurred to you that perhaps not every little thing I do is any of your damned business?"

                "But you are _wrong_ , Dorian, and you know it." Halward's hands were on his hips, and _that look_ was on his face again. Oh good. "You think you can get together with a bunch of other boys in the dark of night, and not have that hurt us? It's no secret why you lot were sneaking off. Whether you like it or not, young man, you are the heir to this house and -- "

                He was cut off by the sound of Dorian's cackling, the mad laughter resounding off the walls in these wee hours. " -- and by your actions will it blah, blah, _blah_. Oh yes, father, don't you worry, I am painfully aware."

                "Then tell me, for the love of all the Imperium, why can you not at least _try_ to comport yourself with decency?" And there it was. The tired, stricken expression, the confusion and sense of victimization. Two powerful noble mages who had done everything right, who had played the game and done their duty and who were receiving only punishment for it. The conviction that they were right. The feeling of being trapped by their defective child, their only child. If only they'd had a second. If only they'd had a better.

                Dorian took a deep breath to steady himself before looking straight at Halward Pavus, patriarch of the House, the mighty magister a mere four steps from Archon. The father who used to love him. "Because there is nothing wrong with what I was doing, father. Because there is nothing wrong with me."

                He left his boots on the whole way to the shower, soot from the ruined buildings trailing behind him. He was nothing but proud of these black marks on his house.


End file.
